Note: Just a quick little story I thought up while in Physics class a few weeks ago; although this version is the product of many stages of revision and editing. Hope you like it. ;) (Just like any other piece of historical fiction, a few facts have been changed to make the storyline work. I have tried to do this in as respectful a way as possible)

John André peered out of the window of the former armory. The room had been converted into a cell to hold him until his execution. He had been imprisoned because he had been carrying maps and other papers pertaining to the garrison at West Point from American General Benedict Arnold to British General Sir Henry Clinton. The plan had hit a snag when the ship that André was supposed to return to New York City on was forced back down the Hudson River by American artillery. He had then returned to West Point and explained the situation to his accomplice, Benedict Arnold. André had changed into civilian clothing to avoid being spotted in his bright scarlet military coat, all the while knowing that if he was captured in civilian clothing, he would be hung as a spy. He hid the paper in one of his boots and set out on horseback for New York City. Along the way, he was stopped by a group of men, one of which was wearing a green Hessian jacket. The man wearing the Hessian jacket didn't look German so, André reasoned that the man must be a member of a Loyalists militia unit.

"Sir, I am a British Officer on a mission for General Clinton and must not be detained any longer. I trust that you are loyalist?" He had said.

The man replied "you're wrong, we're Patriots."

These men had forced him off his horse, they had searched him, and they had found the papers. Within twenty-four hours, he had been moved to his current location; and in his present situation he was utterly miserably. He knew that he was going to be executed; his only comfort was the possibility of being executed by firing squad instead of hanging. He had pleaded with General Washington, but the answer had been clear. Since General Clinton refused to hand over Arnold, André's fate would be revenge for what had happened to Nathan Hale. Looking around the room, he allowed his mind to wander. He thought of his family, mainly, his ten year old little sister Sarah. He could picture her in his mind. Her blonde hair arranged into little ringlets that framed her heart shaped face. She had big green eyes, identical to their mother's, and the most delicate little features, not unlike a porcelain doll. Just before he had been deployed to America, she had given one of her silver pendent necklaces to remind him of home. He reached into his pocket and touched the heart shaped object, and ran his thumb over the full body engraving of the crowned British lion. His thoughts were interrupted when Colonel Tallmadge entered the room.

"Hello Major André."

"Good afternoon, Colonel Tallmadge."

"I thought you might want some company"

"I always welcome your company, Colonel."

Colonel Tallmadge and Major André had quickly become good friends during the brief time that they had known each other.

Colonel Tallmadge smiled "I'm glad to hear that. I come in to see you so often I feared that I was becoming a nuisance."

"On the contrary, I quite enjoy having someone to talk with. I'm used to being surrounded by my friends on General Clinton's staff. It's strange to be alone so much of the time."

"I can't imagine being separated from my friends from my unit; it must be dreadful for you to be"

"It's not only that I'm separated from my friends and family, I miss England. I miss everything about it; the sound of the bells of St. Paul's cathedral, the museums, the bookshops, everything."

"I miss my home too. Although, far more distance separates you from your home then me from mine."

"That, I am painfully aware of."

Just then a voice came from outside the door "Colonel Tallmadge, your presence is requested at headquarters"

"I'm sorry John; I have some responsibilities that I have to take care of. I'll be back, but; in the meantime I have these for you." Colonel Tallmadge reached into one of his coat pockets and took out a pen and a sealed ink well. He reached into his other pocket and pulled out a few small sheets of paper.

"You're an artist and a writer are you not? I thought that you could use these to help ease your boredom."

"Thank you very much Ben. Just out of curiosity, and I say this with all due respect and gratitude. I am a British officer, why do you do things like this for me?"

"John, I do these things because I don't think that you are the horrible spy that everyone makes you out to be. Arnold is the one who betrayed his country; you just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time while serving yours. Since you are to be executed, I'm willing to help you in whatever small ways I can." Both men smiled "Well John, I really must go. I'll be back though." And with that, André was alone again.